Only Human
by Ice Queen1
Summary: Post Season 2 Finale. Dan goes to confront Lucifer over his disappearing act and lack of answers. What he finds is the last thing he expected. "Let's Wing It!" fic exhange. Lucifer whump. Mentions of self harm. No pairing, just friendship (because I like that Dan just rolls with whatever weirdness he sees around Lucifer now).


Author's Note: I present to you: what has been eating up my entire creative being for the last two months. This is part of the "Let's Wing It!" fic challenge, and my giftee was Wolfgirl4vr over on AO3 (where this will be cross posted). The prompt was the song "Human" by Rag N Bone Man (which, admittedly, I thought of Lucifer when hearing it for the first time months before this exchange, so thank you Wolfgirl4vr for giving me an excuse and a reason to write something for it). The only thing she asked was preferably no Deckerstar, and if I could, swing it with Dan. Regrettably, I am just fecking awful at romance - or anything in that category. So this is written as bromance/friendship. Hopefully it still works! One shot.

* * *

"Morningstar, _open up_!" Dan yelled, pounding his fist against the penthouse door.

The sleek black wood remained stubbornly closed.

Dan pressed an ear to it, half hoping and half terrified he _would_ hear something. Knowing Lucifer, there was an equal chance he'd hear nothing at all, or a free for all orgy that, try as he might, he would never be able to _un_ hear.

It was silent as the grave.

Maze swore he was back. As in, actually _swore_. Violently, and creatively. The woman was angrier than Dan could ever remember seeing her, which he supposed was only fair. Lucifer had disappeared, _again_ , without warning – without explanation, without so much as a hint of where he'd gone this time.

Except this time was worse. Worse, because he'd called Chloe, promising to explain everything and claiming he was done with hiding, done with subversion and craftily turned phrases that answered everything with nothing at all.

This time, Chloe didn't get angry. She didn't worry. She just…shut down. Turned off and carefully pretended that she didn't care what happened _this_ time, and quietly went about her job with a dismissive 'He's an adult – and he can make his can do what he wants.'

Linda Martin, Lucifer's…therapist? Friend? Ex-lover? All of the above? When Chloe and Dan had visited her in the hospital, she'd asked after the man, wondering where he was, and if _he_ was alright, because she'd seen him only the day before and hadn't heard from him again – and that he was supposed to be on his way to talk to Chloe when he left. Chloe had offered a thin and brittle smile when she explained that Lucifer was gone again.

Dan wondered at the worried look the psychologist had before Chloe said that there was no sign of foul play – just that Lucifer had upped and vanished in a manner that was becoming aggravatingly familiar.

"Maybe it wasn't his choice?" Linda suggested mildly. "Maybe there was another reason for him to go…"

"Like what?"

Linda looked like she wanted to say something, her lips pursing into a thin line before shaking her head slightly, as if she'd thought of something and just as easily dismissed it. "Never mind."

And no amount of asking and probing could convince her to explain further.

Maze had been slightly more illuminative, but twice as damning.

" _No one_ makes Lucifer do something he doesn't want to do," Maze growled, twisting one of Trixie's old Barbies in her hands until it ripped in half. "If he's gone, it's because he wants to be."

"Weren't you guys like best friends?" Dan asked, trying to suppress a shiver when Maze began to pluck the hair from Barbie's scalp, one at a time.

"Friends?" Maze echoed. " _Friends_?" She ripped Barbie's head from her shoulders, thrusting the decapitated torso in Dan's face. "Lucifer and I aren't _friends_. _Friends_ don't keep secrets from one another. _Friends_ don't push the other away and dismiss them like they're _nothing_."

Dan held up his hands in surrender, stepping back before Maze could shove what remained of the Barbie up his nose. "Got it."

 _That_ was a can of worms he wasn't eager to reopen, and hadn't brought up Lucifer or his possible whereabouts again in front of the bounty hunter.

Even Lucifer's brother…step brother? Adopted? He was losing track of Lucifer's slap dashed family tree. Amenadiel didn't seem all that concerned either. In fact, the man seemed like he was in a better mood since Lucifer vanished than he had the entire time Dan had known him. But he was also the only one who offered even a hint of an explanation behind Lucifer's vanishing act.

"He got some disappointing news," Amenadiel said, grin wide. "He's probably off pouting."

At first, Dan thought he meant whatever had gone down with Charlotte Richards at the Pier (which…just _no_. That was a bag of weird he wasn't prepared for yet). Charlotte was, after all, his step mother and her case was…complicated.

"He's learned that he wasn't as favored as he thought himself," Amenadiel explained, without really explaining at all. Judging from the toothy grin he offered, Dan could hazard a guess as to who'd taken the Favorite Child mantel.

Days became weeks and with no sign – one way, or another – from Lucifer, Dan started to suspect that maybe the others were right. They were, after all, closer to the man than he was. They would know if something was wrong, or if Lucifer had just decided to blow them off once more. Maybe he would be back with another wife. Maybe a husband this time, just to keep life interesting. Who knew?

Except…

Except there were things about this time that didn't make sense if Lucifer picked up and left of his own accord.

His car was left at the hospital. His penthouse _hadn't_ been closed up and covered in dust cloths, and Lux hadn't been shut down. It wasn't like he'd prepared to leave town like last time, he'd just simply…disappeared between the frame of one camera to the next. But with everyone else completely dismissive that anything other than Lucifer himself being behind the abrupt departure, Dan assumed he was being dramatic, seeing things that weren't there and drawing connections that didn't exist. He even had to admit, while strange for other people, it really wasn't _that_ abnormal for Lucifer.

And it seemed that everyone else had been right.

Dan had been at Maze and Chloe's shared apartment, sharing lunch with her and Trixie as had become their Friday tradition during the summer vacation when Maze came storming in, swearing a blue streak that made even Trixie wince.

The general gist of it was simple – Lucifer was back.

If there was an explanation for it, Maze either hadn't stuck around for it, or hadn't bothered to hear it.

Dan didn't miss the way Chloe snuck a glance at her phone, just in case she'd missed a call or text announcing he was back, or the way she carefully put it back in her pocket without a word.

Apparently, Lucifer hadn't told anyone he was back.

Chloe and Maze's ire he could understand. He could also let them sort things out by themselves, because they were adults, and they knew perfectly well what kind of a person Lucifer Morningstar was.

It was the look on Trixie's face that moved him.

He knew Lucifer didn't _dislike_ Trixie. He'd clearly never been around children before and couldn't seem to decide if they were in fact tiny people or strange pets more closely related to puppies than humans, something which made him all that much more endearing to Trixie. But he was also incredibly dismissive of her and her affections, often physically removing her from him (which, fine, Trixie needed to know about personal boundaries) and placating her with whatever he thought would get rid of her faster. And yet somehow… _somehow_ he could still manage to crush her without doing or saying a goddamn thing.

And that Dan wouldn't allow. Morningstar couldn't just waltz in and out of their lives, expecting to be a part of them without having any of the obligations that come with friendship, or hell – just being a decent human being, because Dan had no doubt in his mind that if Lucifer sent a three word text explaining he'd be gone, Chloe and Maze and Linda would've accepted it.

Well…maybe not Maze.

Which lead Dan to here – Lucifer's threshold to give him an ultimatum. No more disappearing. No more promising explanations and then dodging every direct question. And if he couldn't abide by those simple rules, then he would have to find someone else's family to use as a distraction from his own problems.

" _Lucifer_!" Dan shouted, knocking harder. "I _know_ you're back, Maze already told us! There's no point in pretending you're not!"

Of course, there was also the chance that Lucifer had only come back to grab something and leave again, but that hardly seemed likely. More plausible was that Lucifer was pretending that if he acted like nothing was amiss, so would everyone else.

He put his ear back to the door, and this time he thought he could hear something. Not voices like a TV or other people but…something. So he _was_ home. Damn that man…

"Lucifer, so help me-" and this time, he actually tried the knob.

The door swung open with ease, and Dan barged in, fully prepared to give Lucifer a piece of his mind for ignoring him and instead froze, hand still on the door as he took in the penthouse.

It was destroyed.

The last time Dan was here, he was with Chloe, checking to see if there was any sign of foul play at the apartment when they found his car still at the hospital. Not one thing was out of place. It may as well have been a set from a movie, for all the lack of proof that someone lived there.

But now…

The bar in the corner was shattered, the broken mirrored backing spider-webbing into a thousand broken pieces. Thousands of dollars of liquor splashed across the floor, dripped down the walls and pooled along the edge of the ruined carpet.

The piano was smashed, almost completely in half as if someone had been thrown into it from above. Ivory keys were scattered across the room, the wires snapped in half and pulled loose like stray pieces of hair.

Half the lounge sofa was overturned, the glass coffee table in a similar state as the alcohol bottles. Even the glass between the living room and Lucifer's office was fractured and splintered and yet miraculously still standing.

Dan simply stood, frozen open mouthed at the absolute destruction.

Maybe Maze and Lucifer had a more serious _discussion_ than Dan thought?

As he stared at the wreckage of the multi-million dollar penthouse, wondering just what the hell happened here, he realized several things. One, this wasn't from a fight. He'd seen the aftermath of enough of them that he could tell the difference between two people fighting and one person smashing everything they could find. Two, he could hear the shower running from somewhere beyond the raised threshold towards the back of the apartment. And three…there was a lot of blood.

He'd been so distracted by the state of the normally pristine room that he hadn't immediately noticed, not against the dark wood and floor, but now he could see just how _much_ there was.

"Lucifer?" he called, hand going to his waist out of reflex, but he wasn't here as a cop. He'd left his firearm back in his gun safe. He'd already reached for his phone, but something else caught his eye.

In the middle of the floor, lying so perfectly on the black marble floors it seemed as if it was staged, was a single, white feather.

For one blindingly absurd moment, Dan was back to being convinced that he'd walked in on something that he was never going to be able to un-see, and the sound of the shower was probably just whatever… _thing_ …Lucifer was in the middle of.

Maybe if it hadn't been for the bright smear of red across it, or the bloodied hand print on the engraved framework of the door, he could've walked away, but now his curiosity was getting the better of him. This wasn't how Maze described her chat with Lucifer, and he doubted she would leave out something like a serious injury – unless she was the one who gave it to him, which seemed just as unlikely. Maze was the exact opposite of her name. No twisting, turning sly omissions and conjectures – just point blank honesty. If she'd kicked the shit out of Lucifer, she would've said so, and Dan had never known Lucifer to not give as good as he got. Maze would've at least been a little dinged up if there was a fight.

"Lucifer?" he called again, knocking quietly but firmly on the half closed door to give the man one last chance to convince him that this was just some weird sex play and tell him to piss off or - knowing Lucifer – invite to join.

All he heard was the water running.

As he gently pushed the door open, gaze taking in the shattered mirror he froze for the second time that afternoon, absolutely convinced somewhere between the hall and the bathroom someone had slipped him acid.

Because there was no _fucking way_ what he was seeing was real.

The bathroom itself was enormous, which was fortunate considering the massive white wings splayed out across the Italian marble, crumpled and bent at awkward angles to cram themselves into the space.

Sitting, hunched over himself and his arms wrapped around his still clothed knees directly under the merciless stream of the showerhead, was Lucifer.

There was more blood.

 _Lots_ more.

"Lucifer?" he echoed, unable to come up with anything more profound because _whatthefuckarethose?!_ It sounded strangled and unsure, even to his own ears, and he would've bet money Lucifer hadn't heard him above the shower except he flinched at the sound of his name, the wings jerking with the movement.

So they _were_ attached, Dan thought dimly. Which made more sense than being a decorative statement, but _wings. Wings. Fucking **wings**_.

He wasn't even sure what he was supposed to say, because what _could_ he? Instead, he stood, frozen in the doorway, staring at the physical proof that Lucifer _wasn't a liar_.

Slowly, as if his brain was trying to reboot itself from 'all systems failure', Dan started to notice more than just the wings.

Lucifer still had pants, but his torso was bare and what little of it he could see was angry red and discolored patches of missing skin that looked like second degree burns.

His feet, also bare, were absolutely shredded. He wondered if it was from the broken glass in the living room, or if it was from the same thing that caused the burns.

Bloodied footprints, so much more visible on the pale marble instead of the onyx, congealed on the stonework leading up to the frameless shower, the closest ones slowly washing away in a thin strip of color spiraling down the drain.

Clenched in one white knuckled fist was a small, curve bladed karambit knife, dripping red.

"What…" happened? To him, to the penthouse, to _everything_. The _hell_ were those and where did they come from? _Where have you been_? He wasn't sure what to ask first, or even what _to_ ask. Did Lucifer run away? Why did he come back? Where had he been for the last three months, and _how the fuck did those get there_? Does this mean _all_ of what he'd said was true? Proof of the divine, that there was conclusively a Heaven and Hell and – "Are you okay?"

Lucifer made a strangled noise that was something caught between a derisive snort and a hysterical giggle. " _No_."

Realistically, he hadn't expected a 'this is totally fine. Go about your business as usual', but he wasn't entirely sure how to respond to such a blatant negative. He started to reach for his phone, to tell Chloe to get over here _now_ , but Lucifer stopped him.

"Don't…don't do that," Lucifer said. It came out slightly muffled from behind his folded arms, and a little hard to hear over the water, but it caught Dan's attention. " _Please_."

It was the 'please' more than anything that made Dan look up. It wasn't so much that it was the first time he'd ever heard the man say it without a hint of sarcasm. It was because he sounded nervous.

No. Scratch that. He sounded _scared_.

And for the first time since stepping foot in the penthouse, Dan realized what he was looking at, and he could've kicked himself. Wings aside, Dan had been a cop for almost a decade. It shouldn't take him that long to recognize shock.

Without a word, he slid the phone back into his pocket and carefully shut the door behind him.

The wings rustled as Lucifer's shoulders slumped, and he let his forehead drop to his folded arms. " _Thank you_."

Dan waited a moment to see if Lucifer said anything else, but when he didn't, he cleared his throat. "You had everyone worried."

The wings shifted again as Lucifer looked up, a sardonic smile pulling at his split and chapped lips. "I sincerely doubt that."

"You've been gone for three months, after promising to tell Chloe about..." he gestured weakly towards the wings, " _those_ , I assume, without a word. Or call, or text, or..." Dan trailed off when he realized Lucifer was staring at him, lips pressed in a thin, blood less line.

"What did you just say?" he croaked, eyes going wide.

"You didn't tell anyone where you were?"

Lucifer shook his head slowly, jaw working back and forth as he looked torn between laughing and straight faced. " _How_ long?"

Dan bit his lip to keep from blurting out the answer because it looked like Lucifer was barely keeping it together as is. But…

"Lucifer…how long do _you_ think you've been gone?"

"Maybe…maybe a few hours?" he said faintly. "I don't – I was visiting Dr. Linda at the hospital, I brought her her glasses and to apologize for Mum and…then I called the Detective, but I got her voicemail and then…" Lucifer trailed off, voice going flat and distant. "And then I was in the desert. Like this." He gestured to the wings with a half nod of his head.

Dan wondered if that meant the wings were new – and if they were, what exactly that would mean, because _people_ didn't magically sprout wings, no matter the reason. As illogical and out of this world as it sounded, Lucifer being _exactly_ who he always claimed to be made more sense. Angels sprouting wings was at least understandable.

Maybe it was the travel back that took so long?

"When was that?" Dan asked.

In that same detached and distant voice that was really unnerving, Lucifer replied. "A few hours ago."

Well…fuck.

"It's August. You disappeared in the beginning of May," Dan explained quietly, because it was too late to lie, and would only make it worse later. "Where have you been for three _months_?"

Lucifer gave a short bark of laughter, immediately pressing the back of his hand that still clenched the knife against his lips. "I don't – I don't know," he said, his lips pulled back in a painfully tight smile that was anything but humorous. He laughed again, but this time it was high pitched, bordering on manic.

"I don't know."

He started to rock, the massive wings starting to shudder.

"I don't know."

His entire frame trembled.

"I don't _know_ , I _don't_ know, _I don't know, Idontknow, IdontknowIdontknowIdontknow_ …"

Dan floundered. He wasn't quite sure where he stood with Lucifer, as a friend or otherwise, and if he was perfectly honest with himself, he was flat out _bad_ at trying to comfort people: Chloe, victims at a crime scene, Charlotte – who he didn't even want to try and comprehend right now, with her selective amnesia. Is this where he was supposed to offer words of comfort? Like _what_? 'So sorry you misplaced three months of your life, but hey – you're not dead, so silver lining there!'? Besides – he wasn't all that eager to get within striking distance of the wings _or_ the knife. Not when Lucifer seemed to be falling apart at the seams.

Abruptly, Lucifer's tone changed, edging down from the near manic hysteria to flat out laughter, as if missing three months of his life was the most hilarious thing in the world. His eyes flashed incandescent crimson as he snarled, and then without warning, he took the knife in his hand and started _digging_ , stabbing and slashing angrily at his own back with the black blade in a frenzy, twisting about as he tried to reach the base of his wings between his shoulder blades.

" _They're **not**_ _a gift when you can't say **no**_!" he shouted, ripping at the feathers he could reach in great handfuls. It was utterly in vain – the feathers he pulled regrew beneath his fingers. The ones he dropped disappeared.

" _I don't **want**_ _them_!" As if hoping to break them, Lucifer's wings opened wider, flailing against the marble in the cramped space into positions that made Dan cringe in sympathy. The marble cracked before the wings did. "I _burned_ them for a _reason_!"

Dan stood frozen, backed against the door with both hands on the knob, debating whether or not he should run or call someone – Amenadiel is Lucifer's brother, right? If Lucifer was an angel, then Amenadiel likely was one too, right? Because what was _he_ supposed to do now? Years of Catholic teachings told him the Devil in a bad mood required someone with a little more kick than the average human male.

It wasn't until the smell of copper hit his nose, heavy and thick in the air like the taste of a penny on his tongue that Dan realized where all the blood from outside came from. Not just his feet. He'd assumed that whatever Lucifer attempted was instantly erased like the regrown feathers, or the unbreakable bones, but that was only what he could reach with his hands.

The same could not be said for the damage done by the knife.

"Lucifer _stop!_ " Dan shouted, all thoughts of trying to leave gone because Lucifer's back was in ruin. Long, sloping slices like ribbons across his skin; huge gouges torn out where skin came out in chunks and flaps of skin like loose fabric and _still_ he dug at his back, movements wild and uncoordinated and utterly useless against the wings he seemed to hate.

Dan skidded across the wet tiles, almost falling on the slick surface as he barely avoided getting hit in the face with a wildly thrashing wing as he grabbed Lucifer's hand before Lucifer could swing downwards again. " _Stop_ ," he ordered, prying Lucifer's fingers away from the handle of the knife. "Or you're going to kill yourself!"

"What of it?" Lucifer snarled, trying to pull the knife back. But if he wanted it, he was going to have to break Dan's fingers to do it, and Dan could see the moment he recognized that fact. The red faded to human brown, and the rage evaporated as fast as it came on. He released his grip on the knife, carefully allowing Dan to take it from him. Given his actions not a minute ago, Dan suspected the gentleness was only because of him.

Dan tossed it to the other side of the room where it skittered to a halt under the sink.

Lucifer stared at it, looking wistful as his fingers clenched unconsciously for something else to take its place.

"Why are you here, Detective?" Lucifer asked, not bothering to look at him as laid his forehead against his bent knees.

Dan pretended not to notice the rapid cycling mood swings, before deflecting the question with one of his own as he reached over the man's shoulders, carefully avoiding the wings to turn off the now cold water. "What were you _thinking_?"

There was that half strangled laughed again, and this time the wings sagged, dropping impossibly low as the tension seemed to leach from Lucifer's shoulders. Dan didn't believe for a moment it was because he was relaxing. More like exhaustion setting in.

"I wanted to damage something my Father loved." There was a muffled dark chuckle. "Too bad I couldn't reach."

Dan paused, taking in the damage Lucifer did to his own skin. As bad as it looked when he caught glimpses as Lucifer inflicted it on himself, it looked _much_ worse closer up. He must've been trying to hack them off since Maze left, given the amount of blood in the other room. He was only half right about his reach, though. Some cuts _did_ hit the base of his wings. But like the feathers Lucifer tore free, the knife either didn't do anything, or it was immediately healed.

There was a sickening twist in his stomach when he realized Lucifer didn't mean himself. At least…not _all_ of him.

Now that the water was off, he realized how cold the room was, or at least felt on wet clothes, and he wasn't even half as soaked as Lucifer. The fine tremors across his frame could easily be from blood loss and shock, but he doubted sitting on the cold marble floor was helping.

So far, besides the wings, everything about Lucifer was still oh so very human.

"Come on," he said quietly, holding his hand out to the man. "Let's get you taken care of."

Lucifer eyed his offered hand like it would bite him. He tilted his head back, frowning. " _Why_ are you here, Detective?"

"It's not going to bite," he deflected, indicating his hand with a bit of a shake.

Despite looking thoroughly unconvinced at the statement, Lucifer allowed Dan to pull him upright. He staggered slightly as soon as he was standing, stumbling and almost falling back down until Dan caught him underneath his arms.

"I'll at least help you to your room," Dan said. "But you can change _after_ I'm out of the room."

Lucifer didn't even make a halfhearted attempt at being lascivious. He only nodded in agreement.

Well shit.

"Come on."

It was almost half an hour later that Lucifer emerged from his room dressed in a half zipped hoodie and loose pants.

That his wings were suddenly gone made Dan start almost as badly as seeing the first time, but before he could protest, Lucifer shook his head.

"They're not visible, but they're still here," he assured bitterly. "Apparently there's no getting rid of them _this_ time."

Dan was relieved he'd at least swept up some of the broken glass when he realized Lucifer was still barefoot.

"Do you need stitches?" Dan asked hesitantly. The wounds had fished mouthed and pulled away from one another, and he had a vague memory of first aid saying that was bad. It could've also been an episode of _House_ , though.

"They'll heal," Lucifer said, moving stiffly. "Maze's knives leave a bit more of a mark than mortal blades, but none of these are lethal." He eyed the couch. Deciding better of it, he shuffled towards the bar, finding a half broken bottle of something that was at least half full. Gingerly, he picked out the broken pieces with his fingers, tossing them onto the floor with the rest of the broken glass. Raising the broken bottle to his lips, he caught Dan's disbelieving stare. "Sorry. Where are my manners. Would you like a glass? There's probably at least _one_ around here somewhere."

Out of reflex, Dan shook his head and then almost immediately nodded. It'd been a rough afternoon. It was five o'clock somewhere nearby, right?

Lucifer upended half the remaining bottle into a metal travel mug Dan was pretty sure had been left there by one of Lucifer's 'guests' and held it out to him. "Cheers."

As Lucifer gingerly took a seat on one of the barstools that hadn't been broken, Dan gave him a cursory once over.

"Elevator eyes, Detective. Isn't that 'yellow light behavior' in your harassment in the workplace videos?" Lucifer said mildly. "If you want to ask something, just ask."

"I don't even know where to start," Dan said, half shrugging as he took his own sip of the whiskey.

"Yes, there is a Heaven. Yes, there is a Hell. Between the two of them, I don't know which one is worse, but I wouldn't recommend either," Lucifer said. He took another long drink from the broken bottle. "And yes, I used to rule the latter. And no, I don't run around trying to convince people to sell their souls to me in exchange for favors."

Dan snorted into his cup. "Anyone who thinks that doesn't pay that close attention in church."

At that, Lucifer raised a curious brow but didn't comment.

Dan shrugged. "There's a lot worse stuff in the Bible that _God_ does than Lucifer – you – had a hand in. I've never been a fan of the 'kill the first born sons' or asking father's to sacrifice their sons to prove their loyalty. And assuming it wasn't all allegories, I'd rather have the fruit of knowledge than the garden of ignorance."

"That's not…" Lucifer said, shaking his head, trailing off.

"Not what happened?" Dan supplied.

"Not what people usually say," Lucifer corrected. He was staring at Dan in the same way he did when Lucifer had asked what he desired that day in his office after Malcolm had kidnapped Trixie. Like Dan was some bizarre jigsaw puzzle piece that didn't belong in the box it was found in.

"What's the deal with the wings?" Dan asked, trying to ignore the scrutiny he found himself under.

"I'm an archangel. Comes with the territory," Lucifer answered snidely.

"That's not what I meant, and you know it."

Lucifer glanced down at the mostly empty broken bottle in his hands, watching the amber liquid swirl as he twirled idly. "When…when I first left Hell, I made Maze cut them off. Except for a Pentecostal coin I had, they were the only way I could've gotten back there without dying, which meant if my Father wanted me back there, He was going to have to kill me. Something I knew He wouldn't do. They were also the only way I could've ever gotten home. After they were stolen and I got them back, I decided that I would rather destroy them than be forced to take a gift I didn't want, so I burned them." He chuckled without humor. "Much to Amenadiel's dismay, I might add. He wasn't too happy about having to take over my abdicated throne."

"So…if you hacked them off and then burned them…how…?" Dan gestured vaguely towards Lucifer.

"No idea. Like I said. I was at the hospital, and then I wasn't. And when I woke up, I had them back."

"Your Father?"

Lucifer shrugged and immediately winced. Dan would've thought that as painful as cloth on open wounds like he'd had was, he would've opted for either something lighter weight or nothing at all. It wasn't like the man was ever shy. It spoke volumes to how bad he must've really felt. Worn hoodies were the adult equivalent of security blankets.

It was one of a hundred little things that made it hard to remember Lucifer _wasn't_ human.

"I honestly have no idea. Dad doesn't like to give specifics, just pieces and sees what you'll do with them. I'm not sure if this is a message, a punishment, or a bribe or…nothing at all to do with Him."

"Are they why Maze was so angry?"

Lucifer moved to shrug again but caught himself. "Yes…and no. She didn't believe me when I said I didn't know how I got them back, or what they meant. None of _this_ ," he gestured towards the second degree burns and peeling skin on his cheeks, "should be possible. It's only ever been Chloe that made me vulnerable, and she was nowhere near me when I woke up." Lucifer paused, giving Dan an accusatory look. "Unless she's been gone for the last three months as well?"

Dan shook his head. "She was worried about you. _Is_ worried about you. She's just also mad that you up and disappeared again – though apparently, not your fault this time. If you explain it, she'll understand."

Half way through Dan's comment, Lucifer was already shaking his head. "I'd rather endure her wrath again. She doesn't need to know about this. About _these_." He gestured with a wave towards where his wings would be if they were visible. "Or about me. Not the real me."

"You've been telling everyone since the day you got here you're the Devil, and you _are_ ," Dan protested. "What's the difference?"

Lucifer clenched his jaw, fingers tightening on the now empty bottle hard enough that what glass remained cracked beneath his grip. "That I don't lie to her and her believing me are to completely different things, Detective. I'm a _validation_ to you. To her – I'm at best a broken toy, and at worst a monster whose existence makes her question all the other evils in the world. It's worse to people who don't really believe in a higher power. It took Dr. Linda weeks to get over the shock of it and I…" Lucifer took a shuddering breath. "I don't want Chloe to look at me like that."

Dan doubted seeing Lucifer with wings in a situation of his own choosing could be any worse than stumbling in to find him the way _he_ did, but decided it was a moot point. It wasn't his decision to make.

He cleared his throat before downing the rest of the whiskey. "So, can I ask something? Not about _right now_ , but earlier… _much_ earlier?"

"I'm an open book," Lucifer said. The slight smirk was a ghost of his usual smile, but Dan would take it.

"All the stories have you hating humanity," Dan said. "Like, _all of them_. That was how you got kicked out of Heaven in the first place. If that's true…why are you _here_? Why are you working with Chloe as a consultant solving crimes and helping out Vegas showgirls and aspiring singers and football players? Why _help us_ if you hate us?"

Lucifer's smirk faltered. "I never hated you," he said, sounding affronted. " _How_ could I hate you? This is where I found home. I was…" Lucifer looked down, suddenly finding the cuts and bruises on his hands infinitely fascinating as he picked at them. He was quiet for so long, Dan was sure he wouldn't answer. That this was a sore subject and probably the worst that he could choose.

"Young," he finally managed. "Young, and very jealous. You had something I always wanted, and you squandered it. Not all of you. But…enough. And you were still my Father's favorites. I didn't hate _people_ , I hated my Father – because He loved in you what He could not permit His first children."

"Free will?"

"Imperfection." Lucifer let the broken bottle fall and smash into pieces on the black marble, tiny slivers scattering across the floor like a starburst. "Humans invented murder, did you know that? Murder and deception and greed and lust and _wrath_. And you pinned it all on _me_. Everything I was blamed for, I learned from _you_."

Oh… _ouch_. Dan knew what it was like to be blamed for things that siblings did. Admittedly, his experience was considerably smaller scale, and he'd since grown up and…

"Lucifer…how old are you?" he asked.

"Millennia."

"Not numerically…I mean, are you still considered a kid?" Because if he was, so much more about him made sense. Everything he'd chalked up having no sense of boundaries, or in his less charitable moods, narcissistic sociopathy. But if by his own standards Lucifer was an adolescent…who presumably grew up isolated from anyone else of his own race, because Dan got the feeling Hell wasn't some place you visited - especially if all of Lucifer's siblings were like Amenadiel – that was just…

 _Cruel_.

Lucifer offered a vague shrug, more of a jerking motion that didn't move his shoulders. "I don't know…what do I have to compare? My Father? Amenadiel? You've seen what he's like. Does he act like an adult?"

In fairness, no. In many ways, Amenadiel was more like a surly teen than Lucifer. Dan tried to imagine what Trixie would grow up like if all she had for examples were the worst of the worst that humanity had to offer, or a family so distant they might as well not exist.

It was a miracle Lucifer _wasn't_ all the stories made him out to be.

"Don't do that," Lucifer snapped abruptly, his eyes flashing warning red.

Dan wasn't aware he was doing anything at all.

"That pity thing," Lucifer growled, fishing for another less broken bottle. "Bloody hell, you look like you're watching one of those ASPCA commercials with Sarah MacLachlan playing in the background. _Don't_."

"It's not pity," Dan started to protest, but the scathing look Lucifer shot him reminded him the Prince of Lies could probably tell when _he_ was doing it. He saw Lucifer wince as he moved, and stepped behind the bar. Most everything on the shelves was destroyed, but underneath the counter there were still some left intact. He set one of the more expensive of them on the bar, a non-verbal peace offering. "Not really. I just feel like I need to apologize on behalf of the human race in general."

He poured a healthy dose of whiskey into another glass he found under the counter next to the bottle. When he moved to stop, Lucifer stuck a finger out, keeping him pouring.

"Not necessary," Lucifer said when he finally let up.

Dan shrugged. "Maybe not. But I kind of suck at this whole comforting, friendship… _thing_. So let me have this, because it's about all I can offer."

Lucifer eyed him carefully over the rim of the glass. "If you really want to make it up to me, you could start stockpiling more flavors of pudding in the precinct fridge."

Dan scoffed. "I'm not _that_ sorry."

"Didn't think so," Lucifer harrumphed. "But really, I don't need an apology. At least not from you."

"And _I_ said, this is literally all I can do for you. Missing time, super powers, strangely mortal, mysterious gift wings from the Almighty that may or may not come with a side quest…you're on your own. I don't even know where to start with that mess." Dan held up the bottle. "I'm not even buying you a drink. A generic 'my bad' is about my limit, so…shut up."

Lucifer sighed, scrubbing a tired hand across his face, wincing when his ring caught on the still . "That's not what I meant. I mean, I appreciate the sentiment, but I don't need an apology from _you_. You are, in all of history, the only human to ever _take back_ blaming me for something. So…thank you, Detective. For that, if nothing else."

"That's okay," Dan said, offering what he hoped was a friendly-ish smile as he poured himself a travel mug of booze. "You're only human, after all."

* * *

Author's note: Ta daaaah! My only one shot in Lucifer fandom, and let me tell you - the damn thing nearly did me in. titC was a remarkable help for the last couple of paragraphs that spent beating my head against a desk for the better part of two days over. I'm not sure I'm in love with it, but I'LL TAKE IT. Because despite the fact that ALL I used to write were one shots, I now _utterly suck at them_. Anyway. Enough griping. I hoped you liked it! (Especially you, Wolfgirl4vr, since it was your prompt). Reviews are always appreciated and keep me motivated and inspired!


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